


Kimmie Gear Solid

by A_Big_Old_Skeleton



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon), Metal Gear
Genre: F/F, Gen, I Don't Even Know, What hath man wrought, You got Kim Possible in my Metal Gear, You got Metal Gear in my Kim Possible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:57:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Big_Old_Skeleton/pseuds/A_Big_Old_Skeleton
Summary: Kim Possible's retirement in the Alaskan wilderness is rudely interrupted by a terrorist attack.





	1. Retirement Interruptus

As soon as the cabin door swung shut, Kim knew there was something wrong. The air felt different, like it had been disturbed by someone else’s breathing; there was a slight fog on one of the windows, a sign that someone or something warm had leaned against it, and the door had failed to latch properly, which was a good sign it had been forced open. Plus, a lifetime of people trying to kill her had gifted a healthy sense of paranoia that, unfortunately, was almost always correct and it was in full swing at the moment. She’d stopped carrying a gun years ago, but guns had never been her forte to begin with--hand-to-hand, coupled with the various tchotchkes and souvenirs scattered about the house, would be more than enough to deal with whoever the hell had decided invading her personal sanctuary was a bright idea.

Deciding it was best to not let on her awareness of the situation, she set about noisily removing her boots and coat, whistling a familiar tune that she desperately hoped did not sound too jaunty to be anything but a ruse. Grabbing a rock from a decorative bowl of stones which she’d ordered from a Williams Sonoma catalogue, she set off in search of her intruder. As she stepped down the hallway, her eye caught a shadow next to the doorway leading into her living room. With a smirk, she dove low into the room, twisting and throwing the rock at the space where, she calculated, her intruder’s head would be. She was rewarded with a thud and a cry of pain from the man wearing combat fatigues who was now staggering sideways, arm thrown out in a vain attempt to keep his balance. In a fluid motion, she rolled, came up, and tackled the man to the ground, pinning his arms and placing a hand around his throat.

“Alright buddy, you’d better have a  _ damn _ good reason for--oh, you’ve lost consciousness, haven’t you? Damn.”

She stood up and had just started to head for the closet where she kept some rope when the windows exploded and a squad of rather impressively-armed soldiers burst into the cabin pointing far more guns than she felt were necessary at her and shouted at her to put her hands in the air.

From the look of their uniforms, she deduced they must be Rangers, although she supposed that could be a feint by whatever organization seemed so determined to bring her in. The sound of a helicopter arriving drove away any thoughts of attempting to fight her way out of the situation, and so, with a sigh, she raised her arms. The soldiers moved in warily, one breaking off from the group to check on their fallen comrade. 

“In my defense,” she said, knowing that it probably wouldn’t mean anything, “he was in my house without my permission.” This earned her a dirty look from one soldier, while another cuffed her hands behind her back and a third approached to put a bag over her head. The bag was full of what she guessed to be chloroform, and with a sigh, she slipped into unconsciousness. This was  _ not _ how she’d planned to spend her retirement.


	2. The Sales Pitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim wakes up in a cell and gets the lowdown on what's going on

When she regained consciousness, she was aware of three things--one, the bag had been removed and she was in what looked like a confinement cell. Two, she was no longer restrained, but she  _ was _ naked, which did little to improve her mood. It also meant that the various tools she kept sewed into her clothing were no longer available. Three, there was a pain in her arm that suggested she’d received some sort of injection. Two cameras in opposite corners of the ceiling were trained on her, presumably so whoever had put her in this place would know when she was awake. Sure enough, a crackle of static announced the presence of a speaker, from which a maddeningly familiar voice issued.

“Miss Possible. I see you’re awake. Sorry about the rough handling, but it is critical that nobody knows you’re here.”

“Director, I know that you’re a little old and so maybe you’ve started to forget things, but I’m retired.”

“Correction, Miss Possible, you  _ were _ retired. I’m afraid you’ve been drafted back into service.”

Kim stood, faced one of the cameras, and slowly extended a middle finger. “I know that I’m supposed to be the bubbly go-getter, happy to pitch back in and help with whatever disaster your goons have managed to cause since I left, but fuck you. I’m tired, I’m  _ naked _ , you’ve injected me with who knows what, and I’m in what looks awfully like a prison cell to me. So forgive me if the ‘spunky cheerleader’ isn’t coming through right now.”

“We knew you’d be reluctant to return--you made your exit with no small amount of acrimony.” Betty Director’s voice took on the tone of someone explaining something to a child, a quality Kim had never been able to stand, even when she actually had been a child. 

“You  _ killed her _ .” The venom in Kim’s voice surprised her--it had been years (a full decade, even!), and she’d long since put that anger and guilt to bed, or so she’d thought. Even so, hearing Betty use that tone again brought her right back to the mission, when she’d been brutally shown how much of a pawn she’d allowed herself to become. When she’d realized her self-appointed crusade against evil had involved one compromise too many.

“As I told you then, we saw an opportunity to strike a decisive blow against the Hench organization and one of its largest contributors, so we took it.”

“And as  _ I _ told you then, your use of force was excessive. She was standing down! We had an agree--”

“You’d trust a criminal to keep her word? Don’t be ridiculous, Possible.”

“A mercenary, not a criminal--one we could have recruited.”

“Be that as it may, that’s in the past. Global Justice did not bring you in here to debate questions of morality. We need your help.”

“The world’s been getting along just fine without my help for years. Why would you possibly need my help?”

A slot in the bottom of Kim’s cell door slid open, and a set of clothes were slid through. “Because, Miss Possible, we’re up against our own this time. Now get dressed, we’re running out of time and we need you ready by the time we hit our destination.”


	3. So Here's the Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your parents went away on a week's vacation, and they left the keys to the brand new Porsche.
> 
> Or, some more exposition happens and the stakes are, more or less, set out.

It was at that moment Kim became aware that the cell--and presumably everything around it--was moving. She put an ear to the wall and listened, and was rewarded with the sound of an engine thrumming through the walls. Was this a submarine? That would have to wait. For now, she set about getting dressed. “What do you mean, we’re up against our own.”

“At 0600 hours this morning, a group of terrorists led by members of Global Justice special unit Team Possible seized control of the Shadow Moses nuclear disposal facility on the Fox Archipelago off the coast of Alaska. They say if their demands are not met, they’ll launch a nuclear attack on the United States.”

Kim frowned as she pulled on the clothes, which were topped off with a sophisticated-looking wetsuit. “Team Possible? I thought that was disbanded when I quit.”

“It’s true that your departure caused the rest of Team Possible to resign their positions, but we kept the designation for our top-level operatives.”

“I’m flattered--or I would be, if you hadn’t just told me they’re threatening to nuke us. Who  _ does _ that?”

“You need to understand something, Kim. These are not the sort of people you’re used to dealing with. These are highly trained agents, experts in their fields. This isn’t Drakken plotting to, I don’t know, magnetize money and suck it out of everyone’s pockets.”

“Not to sound arrogant, Betty,” Kim said, using her first name because she knew it would rankle the Director,  “but I  _ have _ dealt with Global Justice soldiers before.”

The door to the cell slid open and Betty Director stood in the doorway. “That may be, but you haven’t dealt with  _ these _ soldiers before. We used gene therapy techniques to help boost their combat effectiveness--their senses are sharper and they are predisposed toward remaining calm in combat situations. They’ve also been through an extensive training regimen we designed based on your exploits with us. They were meant to be a new generation of soldier, to continue to effectively combat the evolving threats of the 21st century villain.”

The look that crossed Kim’s face was dangerous enough to make Betty Director instinctively step back. “You had  _ no right _ .”

“I think you’ll find we  _ did _ . Your parents signed the contracts, and you re-signed it when you turned eighteen. We were authorized to use you to the furthest of your abilities without endangering your life, and you were hardly in danger from a cotton swab.” For a moment, Betty almost seemed contrite. “We did plan on telling you, but your...exit meant we had to start treating you as a civilian and not an agent.”

“And now they’ve all gone rogue, and I’m supposed to fix it, huh?”

“In a word, yes. We have twenty-four hours to either defeat the terrorist threat or concede to their demands.”

“And what, pray tell, are their demands?”

Another apologetic look from Betty. “They want your genetic code and several billion dollars.”

“Isn't sending me in there kind of giving them what they want?” Kim's eyebrow raised a little accusingly. “What possible assurance do I have that you aren't just sending me in there giftwrapped for them?”

“I’m afraid you will just have to trust me when I say that we consider that scenario to be unacceptable. We are not in the habit of capitulating to terrorist demands and we don’t intend to start now. Also, I think you’ll do this regardless, considering their leader.”

Kim’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

Betty handed over a datapad displaying a photo of the terrorist leader. Kim stared at it for a long time, her jaw tightening over several minutes. Finally, she looked back up at Betty. “Is this for real?”

Betty nodded. “After you left, she approached us and offered to take over your duties. Given her level of expertise, we were happy to have her on board.”

“Fine. What’s the mission?”

“You have three objectives: First, rescue the hostages - the president of Arms Tech, Kenneth Baker, and the DARPA Chief, Donald Anderson. Second, determine if the terrorists have the ability to make a nuclear strike, and if so, neutralize that ability. Finally, incapacitate or destroy the ringleaders of the attack, including their leader - Joss Possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord take this keyboard from me I can't be trusted with it anymore.
> 
> This is the end of the stuff I'd already done - if anyone leaves an actual comment asking for more I will write more, but otherwise... 
> 
> I might still write more but it won't be any time SOON, you dig? I need to go play through MGS1 again, you know, for research purposes.


	4. Infiltration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim rides a submarine, then a torpedo, and then an elevator.

An hour later Kim found herself crammed into a small watercraft that would more accurately be described as a manned torpedo. She wore the suit they’d provided her with, along with a scuba rig and, swimming around in her veins, an anti-freezing peptide and series of nanomachines which, the doctor had explained to her, would allow her to be tracked and give her real-time status updates on her health, fed to her by a small readout on a contact lens which also displayed a small radar screen. It was not dissimilar from her old kit, albeit smaller. 

As she waited for the countdown to her launch to finish, Kim went over the briefing details again. There were, all told, six members of Team Possible, assembled from various other special ops outfits (or recruitment out of the blue, in the case of Joss). From what she’d heard of them, Global Justice was only continuing its journey from band of do-gooders to favorers of brutality. It made it all the more galling that Joss had willingly signed on with them, given how vocal Kim had been about her opinions in the runup to her break with the agency. Or maybe it had always been this brutal and dirty, and she'd only gotten old enough for them to let her see it. Certainly there were more enemies in the world than a teen with attitude, a grappling gun, and good intentions could handle. 

Then again one of the members was literally an enhanced interrogation specialist, a fancy way of saying he was good at hurting people, so maybe things had gotten worse after all. It didn't matter either way, of course. Kim was not about to let her cousin launch a nuke over a fucking ransom, even if it meant having to give herself up (which she considered to be a last resort - even if Dr. Director had made clear was Not An Option, for reasons she'd explained to Kim were classified and against the “don't negotiate with terrorists” policy at GJ).  

The other participants in the terrorist action: a sniper, a psychic (which caused Kim to raise an eyebrow in the briefing, before she considered she'd fought an alien invasion force when she was younger and dropped it), a “giant and shaman,” and a master of disguise. A somewhat motley crew, but, Kim had been assured, efficient and deadly. That this was largely in part to the leadership of Joss Possible made Kim feel a brief surge of pride before she considered that she was being sent to kill (sorry, “neutralize”) her cousin, not catch up on family news. The other nugget of information Kim had been given was that it was believed Ron had been on site at the time of the attack - serving as an instructor to some of the newer recruits and ostensibly there to lend Team Possible an air of legitimacy that Joss couldn't provide. There was no indication that he'd taken part in the attack, and his communicator had gone dark almost immediately. Kim wasn't sure if Betty’s decision to use Joss’ presence as terrorist leader instead of the chance to rescue an old friend spike worse of Betty or herself. It was entirely likely that Kim would have refused the mission on the grounds that Ron was more than capable of saving himself, and with their friendship being strained over the last few years…  maybe it really did speak for how far Kim had fallen from her ideals. She shook her head to clear it as a voice counted down the seconds to launch. 

The launch was jarring, even with preparation. Kim had gathered this particular insertion method was still unusual enough to qualify as “experimental” and made a mental note to provide feedback on just how bad it was.  _Preferably by kicking someone in the head_ , a voice whispered in her head teasingly. Kim ignored it, refusing to engage with what was, after all, just a memory she didn't need to explore at the moment. She concentrated instead on the small screen in front of her that served as her eyes, making small course corrections in an effort to keep the craft going for as long as possible. The last thing she wanted to do was swim in the freezing water any longer than she absolutely had to. 

An unexpected rock jutting out of the sea floor interrupted her journey, sending the craft slowly spinning end over end. Kim punched the eject button and blew the hatch, icy waters pouring into the cockpit. She waited until she was facing more or less in the right direction and kicked out of the craft, leaving it to complete a few more revolutions before impacting the seafloor. Kim consulted a small readout on her arm and started swimming in what was hopefully the right direction. 

Fortunately for Kim, the readout was accurate. After about twenty minutes of swimming, she found herself surfacing in a small harbor, surrounded by metal crates. She was surprised to see the area was relatively light on guards - a readout fed directly to a contact lens scrolled a miniature map and served as a sort of radar to boot, showing three guards total. The sound of a cargo elevator caught her attention, and she risked a look to see the figure of someone aggravatingly familiar stood on the rising platform. Crouching low behind some machinery, Kim activated the subvocal radio they'd given her. 

“I've reached the insertion point. Not many guards present, but I've got no exits apart from where I came in and an elevator that's already headed up.” 

“You'll need to get on the elevator to access the main facilities. Stay out of sight until you get your chance. You might want to look for a weapon while you're there - it's doubtful they moved the last shipment of supplies before the attack.” Betty’s voice echoed unnaturally in Kim's head. 

Kim grunted quietly. “It would've been easier if you'd given me any kind of weaponry before sending me into this mess.” 

“Impossible, I'm afraid. We can't have anything linking us to this operation. You know that as well as I do.”

_That, and they don't trust you,_ the voice whispered in Kim's mind. Another memory, this time of a mocking look and a chuckled “What **would** your handlers say if they saw you now, hmm? They'd think they were right to be so suspicious.” 

Kim shook her head again to clear it and grunted an acknowledgement of the situation. “I'll radio you when I've made it up. Possible out.” 

In the end it was almost too easy. Kim had a perfect place to wait for the elevator to return, and the guards were clearly bored with what they likely saw as a shit assignment. One of them grumbled something to a companion about how unlikely it was that anyone would come through this way; his companion seemed to agree. It only took a few minutes for the elevator to arrive, and with a slight smirk on her face Kim slipped on board and hit the button to start the platform moving. The sound of the motor whirring to life caused one of the guards to look over curiously, but Kim was pressed flat against the floor and easily overlooked. Once she felt safe to stand up, Kim stripped off her scuba gear and tossed it into a corner behind some crates. Nobody would notice it there, and it beat trying to sneak around wearing diving equipment. 

The elevator arrived at the surface, accompanied by a harsh wind that whipped Kim's hair around in what she was sure would be a dramatic fashion if she hadn't been keeping it so short lately. Snowflakes were sent sideways and Kim mentally thanked (a bit grudgingly) Global Justice for having provided her with a warm suit at least. Nobody appeared to have noticed the elevator’s arrival, and it only took a moment for her to realize why:

A Russian attack helicopter (Hind-D, assuming her memory was accurate) was in the process of taking off from the helipad. Kim frowned and triggered her communicator. 

“Betty, what's a Russian gunship doing here?” 

There was a pregnant silence for a minute, and then Betty responded, unable to keep the surprise from her voice. “I have no idea…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You bastards brought this on yourselves.
> 
> Clever little lads and lasses might spot parts where I've lifted dialog wholesale, but fret not - I'm trying to avoid that as much as possible - some lines are too good to change, though(alas! I haven't figured out a way to work "DID YOU LIKE MY SUNGLASSES?" in yet). We're in the game part now, which is great because this is the part where I can fiddle around a bit more. 
> 
> This is also the part where I admit that I'm too lazy to adapt Kim's villains to Foxhound, so you'll just get the straight Foxhound dope (apart from Joss, obviously). I've spent more time with MGS than KP, you dig? Of course, I'll also be bringing in a few other characters because I'm not a monster.


	5. There are a lot of vents in this place, huh?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim gets a few answers, and finds some nice vents to crawl through.

“Well whoever it is, they must be insane to be flying in this storm.” Will Du’s voice broke in over the radio. 

“Any idea why they'd take such a risk?”

“The Air Force scrambled a few fighters as a diversionary tactic, but a helicopter against an F15 is hardly a fair fight.” Will replied. 

Kim shrugged. “Saves me the trouble of having to sabotage a chopper, at least. I wouldn't want to end up in a fight with it later on. Plus it kept anyone from noticing the elevator.”

“Pretty convenient.”

“What's the situation like up there?” Betty broke in, annoyed at Will’s interruption. 

Kim took a moment to scan the area with a set of binoculars Global Justice  _ had _ been willing to provide. “About what you'd expect. I have eyes on five guards in a regular patrol pattern. They're carrying grenades and rifles. Nothing I can't handle.”

“Remember Kim, this is a sneaking mission. Don't go causing a ruckus - that's a surefire way to get yourself and the hostages killed.” Betty chided her. 

“So not the drama, Doctor Director. I've done this sort of thing before, remember?” Kim replied a little more sharply than she intended. After all, the last time she'd done one of these missions… But it was best not to think about that right now. Not when the fate of the free world or whatever was at stake.

Betty, at least, did not rise to the bait Kim’s response offered. “You should be able to pull up the location of the DARPA chief and Baker on your radar when you get close to them. The base has a small brig located on the first floor basement - it’s your best starting point. If they aren’t there, you’ll need to try interrogating one of the guards, or try to make contact with Stoppable. You’re our best chance, Possible. Get it done.”

Kim didn’t bother responding. She watched the guards carefully, looking for her opening. If the guards were military trained, they would most likely stick to shifts. She checked her watch - shortly after six pm. Odds were decent this current shift had just come on at the top of the hour, so it was probably safe to say there wouldn’t be any unexpected visitors while she made her way inside. Of course, it also meant there would be no chance of a gap in coverage during the shift change - and she still didn’t have a weapon to speak of.

**Come on, Kimmie. This is hardly the worst situation you’ve been in.** The voice in her head teased.  **Remember Beirut? You would’ve died if someone hadn’t pointed out the air vents, hmm?**

Kim shook her head to clear it again. Doctors had assured her that it was the result of combat stress - it would, they said, fade the longer she was away from the battlefield. Which had been true, of course - except now here she was, back in a combat situation, and there was no getting away from it. At least in this case, it gave good advice. It was the work of a moment to spot a vent large enough for her to fit through, and while the guards were good at their jobs, Kim was better. It only took a few minutes for her to maneuver her way past the guards and into the vent. The small map showing her position, frustratingly, went dark. Kim groaned in frustration and keyed her communicator again.

“Betty, I’ve lost my map.”

“Ah, yes. Unfortunately the technology that powers your real-time map is highly susceptible to interference. We would have given you better tools, but -”

“But then it would give away Global Justice’s hand in this if I end up dead or captured. Of course.” 

“The same goes for your communicator, I’m afraid. The lower you go, the more likely it is that we lose reliable communications unless you can find a way to patch into the base’s communications grid.”

“Don’t take it personally, Director, but I don’t think that’s going to be a priority for me. Wade was my tech guy, remember? I’m not exactly an expert in electronics.”

“Of course. Have you made entry into the building?”

“Air vent on the southwest corner of the building was open. I invited myself in.”

Will Du’s voice broke in again. “Great! You should be able to exit the vents right on the ground floor of the hanger. There will be an elevator on the far wall. If you can get to it, you should be able to head directly to the brig.”

Kim paused a moment. “Thanks Will. I’ll contact you when I’ve gotten through the hanger.”

The vents were surprisingly spacious - almost like they were built for a much larger complex than the blueprint she’d been given implied. They also seemed downright labyrinthine, though Kim had plenty of experience getting through the years with that sort of thing. A few minutes of agonizingly slow crawling later, and she was staring out into the hanger. Two tanks dominated the space, along with a smaller truck that seemed like it was for transporting supplies from place to place. A broad catwalk circled the perimeter with a set of stairs leading up to it, while a tank-sized set of doors stood in the far corner. The elevator Will had mentioned was to the left of the door, leaving Kim with a simple problem: how the hell she was supposed to cross the floor without attracting the attention of the guards patrolling the area?

Best to stick to the walls, she thought, and hope that any guards above weren’t inclined to look through the floor. The suit was meant to minimize noise, and its coloring was dark enough that as long as Kim kept her hair under wraps she could blend into the shadows easily enough, but… best not to trust to luck entirely. Crawling it was, then - another series of slow, deliberate movements, pausing whenever one of the guards seemed to look anywhere near her direction. As she picked her way across the room, Kim felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It was like riding a bike, except that normally failing to ride a bike didn’t end in death, or worse. That made this far more exciting, even though Kim would never admit it out loud.

The only question now was, how to get on the elevator without anyone noticing? It stood open, but the noise of the doors closing would attract attention - maybe even put the base on alert. Unless, of course, the doors closed automatically after a short period of time. There was no time to worry about it too much - staying in one place just increased her chances of being discovered, and anyway she needed to get down to the basement if she was going to get out of this alive. Kim’s solution to the problem came in the form of some crates which stood in a shaky-looking stack near the corner of the room. Grabbing a small stone she’d picked up outside, Kim threw it as hard as she could at the stack, and was rewarded with a tremendous crash. All three guards whipped their heads around at the noise, and quickly hustled over to the collapsed stack. With luck, they’d determine it to have fallen over on its own - but even if they suspected something, Kim was across the hanger and behind the closing elevator doors before they had a chance to notice. She breathed out a sigh of relief as the elevator started moving, then almost immediately realized that anyone on the basement level would hear the elevator.

The doors opened up on a seemingly  empty elevator, and stayed open for some time. Eventually, Kim dropped softly from her hiding spot on the ceiling and exited just as the doors began to close again. The corridor was bare, apart from two doors on either wall, neither of which seemed inclined to open. A soft chime sounded in her ear, and she looked down at her map, seeing a small blue dot pulsing in one of the rooms behind the door to her left. Continuing down the hallway, she saw that it rounded a corner which dead-ended into access to a vent which sat a few feet above her head. Sighing, Kim scrambled up the wall and crawled into the vent to consider her next move.

Betty’s voice intruded on her thoughts again. “Report, Possible. Have you made any progress?”

“I’m making my way into the brig. My map’s showing a purple dot - I assume that’s one of the hostages?”

“Purple? That’s the DARPA Chief. Make contact with him as soon as possible and get him out of there. He might also be able to tell you where Baker is.” Will supplied helpfully. 

“Great. I’ll let you know once I’ve made contact.” 

Kim began crawling through the vent, mentally keeping track of where she must have been in relation to the rest of the floor. Her single-minded determination was interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice echoing up from a grate to her left. 

“Hey guy, what if you let me out of here and then I don’t have to kick your butt later, huh? What if we did that?”

“... Ron?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I told you I'd eventually get around to more of this. Of course, now it's time to wait for me to get around to this again, but as I know where the next chapter at least will go, maybe it won't be like a year between posts or whatever it's been up until now.


	6. Memories of an Unproductive Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron's appearance makes Kim remember some stuff she'd rather not think about. Fortunately, the DARPA Chief provides her with a distraction.

“Kim, just think for a second about what you’re doing here.” 

“I’ve thought enough about it, Ron. You know I can’t stay here anymore - not after that.”

Ron placed a hand on Kim’s shoulder almost hesitantly, like he was afraid she would break (or like he was afraid she would punch him, which was an equal concern). Her muscles tensed almost involuntarily, and there was a moment where he was positive she was about to attack him. As it turned out, he was right - but Kim had enough self-control left in her to reconsider before she threw the first punch. 

“Look, they made the wrong choice. You and I both agree on that. But a single lapse in judgment isn’t enough to justify abandoning the whole organization.” To his credit, Ron tried not to sound too condescending. Kim was fiercely independent and had only gotten more so in the years following her college graduation.

“It was murder, Ron, not a wrong choice! They shot a surrendering combatant!” Kim’s voice was tense, and she spoke through gritted teeth. “There wasn’t a choice to make.”

“Even so Kim, are you going to throw everything you’ve built here away over it? Everything  _ we’ve _ built?” There was desperation in Ron’s voice now, and pain. He and Kim had trained up a crew of elite troops capable of taking on the sorts of weird supervilianny that the world had, for a time, been completely unprepared to face. Global Justice had needed someone familiar with combating supervillains and, eventually, extraterrestrial entities, and Kim and Ron had been those someones. They’d both put years into the construction of Team Possible, and Ron had taken an immense amount of pride in the team they’d put together. So had Kim, until recently.

Kim’s face had a familiar set to it that Ron had seen before. When they’d been dating, it had usually meant he would end the night driving home alone. It was the face Kim made when she’d made a decision she knew he wouldn’t agree with and didn’t care. “If what we’ve built is being used for more missions like that one, then I don’t want anything to do with it. I won’t lend support to an organization that’s willing to kill a surrendering enemy.”

Ron sighed, defeated. “Fine. If you’re willing to throw everything away over this… I won’t stop you. Just know running away from this won’t make it go away. I’m not going to scrap this just because you’re abandoning it.”

Kim felt so tired in that moment. “Do what you think is right, Ron, and I’ll do the same. I’m not going to fight about this anymore. I’m tired of fighting.” 

She turned to leave and did her best to ignore the sound of Ron’s frustrated groan as she left the room. That had been the last time they’d talked - Kim had more or less immediately called in a favor for transportation and disappeared into the Alaskan wilderness, off to a location she’d prepared years in advance on Shego’s advice, delivered late one night in a warning tone. “You know eventually they’ll decide to come after you, Kimmie,” she’d said, and while at the time Kim had told herself Shego was just being Shego again, she’d made arrangements anyway telling herself it was to make sure no old enemies came knocking whenever she finally decided to retire.

When she’d arrived,  _ sans _ any form of communication device (the Kimmunicator was somewhere at the bottom of the Pacific now), she’d almost immediately cut her hair short to ensure that nobody recognized her, and spent the rest of the night drinking and mourning Shego. The night of drinking turned into several weeks, tormented by the look of betrayal on Shego’s face as the sound of the gunshot arrived a few seconds later. 

Eventually, the nightmares came less often, and Kim settled into a routine of quiet isolation. A village nearby provided a place to make supply runs, kept her from becoming a complete hermit. It was a good retirement, while it lasted.

Now she was sitting in a vent staring down at Ron as he hurled insults at a guard. Kim thought about saying something, but something kept her from speaking up. After all, she reasoned, Ron was probably safer in his cell, and if he knew Kim was running around, the odds of him staying out of trouble got pretty low. That leaving him in there would put off an explanation of what she was doing here was a useful bonus.

Backing up through the vents was an arduous process, but in short order Kim was back on track. The next branch, assuming she was keeping track properly, would take her over the DARPA chief’s cell. Fortunately for her, she was right - she peered down into the next cell, occupied by an older-looking man with dark skin. He looked tired, wearing a rumpled shirt and tie. Some part of him reminded her of her father, although her father was significantly older at this point. Kim dropped down lightly into the cell, causing the man to jump to his feet.

“Who the hell are you?” 

Kim put her hands up. “Easy, I’m not with the terrorists. You’re the DARPA chief, Donald Anderson, right?”

“Yes, that’s me. What are you doing here?”

“I’m the pawn they sent in here to save your butt,” Kim said, not particularly in the mood to have a conversation about who she was. “Global Justice sent me to get you out of here.”

“Global Justice, huh?” Anderson didn’t look particularly impressed by the news. “At least they’re taking the threat seriously, then.”

“Do the terrorists really have the ability to launch a nuke?”

Anderson looked shocked. “What are you talking about?”

“The terrorists are demanding a billion dollars or they say they’ll launch a nuke. I’m supposed to find out if that’s true.”

Anderson gave Kim a long look and sighed. “Yes, it’s possible. They could launch a nuke.” He sat down heavily.

Kim felt her blood run cold. “How do they have access to a missile? I know there are warheads here, but-”

Before she could continue, Anderson cut her off. “They don’t need a missile. This facility isn’t really a nuclear disposal facility. It’s the testing ground for a new type of weapons system capable of launching from any kind of terrain without the need for an ICBM. A nuclear-equipped, walking battle tank.”

The image of a giant robot standing on two legs flashed into Kim’s mind, along with the sneering face of Gemini. A chill swept over her and she couldn’t help muttering, “Metal Gear… it can’t be!” 

Anderson seemed shocked. “You knew about it? It’s one of the most top secret projects in development!”

“We’ve uh, had a few run-ins in the past.” Kim banished the memory with a shake of her head. “You mean to tell me they’ve been developing a Metal Gear here?”

“That’s right. This was to be the final test before Metal Gear’s official adoption by the US Army. This facility is actually owned by ArmsTech. But if they launch a nuke with that thing…”

“How do I stop it? Isn’t there meant to be a failsafe system?”

“Oh, you mean PAL? Yes, there’s a PAL. You need to enter two codes in order to arm the nuke. I have one code, and Baker - the ArmsTech president - has the other. But…” Anderson trailed off, looking anguished, “they got my code.”

“How?”

“Psycho Mantis pulled it out of my mind. He has psychic powers! You can’t stop him!”

Kim sighed. “So if they’ve got Baker’s code too, then that means they could launch any time!”

“Yes, but you still have a chance to stop the launch. There’s a failsafe system that can bypass PAL. ArmsTech developed it as an additional protection against a launch. You use three special keycards instead of the PAL codes. If you use the cards, it engages the safety lock and the launch can’t go forward.”

“And the keys would be… where, exactly?”

Anderson thought for a moment. “Baker should have them - or at least he should know where they’re kept.”

“And where can I find Baker?”

“He’s on the second subbasement floor here. They’re keeping him in a closed room - there’s only one way in or out, because they bricked up all the other entrances. They didn’t have time to paint the walls though, so if you wanted to try breaking through, you might catch his guards by surprise.” Anderson pulled a card out of his shirt pocket. “Here, you’ll need this. It’s a keycard - it’ll automatically open any level one security doors you approach.” He sounded slightly exhausted from all the talking.

Kim took the card and tucked it away into a belt pouch. “Great. First thing’s first though - I’ve got to get you out of here.” She pulled a set of lockpicks out and began to work on the door. 

“One last question - you haven’t heard any other way to disable the PAL, have you? From your bosses or anyone?” Anderson’s question caught Kim slightly off guard. 

“Nope, they didn’t even tell me about PAL. I guess they assumed I already knew.”

Anderson put his hand on Kim’s shoulder, looking at her intently. There was a faint tremor in his arm. “Are you  _ sure _ you haven’t heard anything?”

Puzzled by this sudden line of questioning, Kim brushed his hand off her shoulder. “I just said no.”

“So tell me,” Anderson said, changing topics suddenly. He seemed agitated, like Kim’s answer hadn’t been what he’d expected. “Does the White House plan to accede to the terrorist’s demands?”

Kim shrugged. “No idea.”

Her response seemed to dismay him. “But… what about the Pentagon?”

Kim opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a sudden cry of pain from Anderson. Clutching his chest, he spasmed violently, staggering toward her before toppling over and writhing on the floor. After a few moments, his breathing grew faint, and then, horrifyingly, he was still. Kim knelt down beside him and felt for a pulse. Nothing.

She sat in silence for a moment, mind whirling, then keyed her codec. “Director, the DARPA chief is dead.”

“What? How?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I can't believe I wrote more of this either.

**Author's Note:**

> Look, it seemed like a good idea when I woke up half-mad and scribbled the idea down. No guarantees on this ever getting finished, because I don't know how often the madness that wrought these first few chapters will hit.


End file.
